even outlaws get the blues: from the outlaw's prayer
john dorsey
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for amanda oaks
lady muse with eyes
like shotguns sings the
blues she laughs when
the poet says "baby
the dead are my
thing raising them may
mean bringing up a
family of ghosts in
topeka kansas or some
other needle in a
vortex but hell sugar
i'll bite that
bullet"
cuz the bible tells
me so i'll wash
pussy down with whiskey
and whiskey down with
poems
but somethin' tells me
your kinda dreams cost
more than a bottle
of jack
daniels
and christ himself didn't
make enough bullets to
hide your tears or
to make you
stop laughing when i
offered poems for pussy
when i dreamt of
putting your heart back
together singing poems are
whores under a holy
sun
ya knew baby i'd
trade your lips for
guns or the perfect
line for the bomb
of immortality that your
fingers run through my
hair but then ya
should've known that we
weren't kansas in anymore and
even if we were
i'd still rather talk
to a young charlie
plymell than hear the
voice of
god
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